


High by the Beach

by Angelgun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Businessman Louis, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Daddy Kink, Drug Addict Harry, Drug Use, Feminine Harry, Harry's 21, Jealousy, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Sex Worker Harry, Sexual Assault, Stripper Harry, Top Louis, im still figuring out how i want this fic to play out, trailer park life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:27:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7516916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelgun/pseuds/Angelgun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's a lonely stripper who dreams of being lovesick, with a taste for older men and luxury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was six in the morning and Harry was running around the trailer park, like he does almost every morning. He had his black leggings that stopped at his knees with little blue shorts and a gray t shirt. His hair was tied up in a bun with a pretty soft pink scrunchy. Harry had just left his home and was really feeling drowsy but that was almost all the time so he paid no mind to it. He looks at the sky line and it's pretty light hues of pink and blue and orange as the sun rises. He smiles at it, a big dopey grin that makes his dimples pop, 'god, life is great', he thinks to himself. It was June so the weather was warm, a little muggy, typical New Jersey weather. He jogs around the parks shitty roads that haven't been paved in who knows how long. He lives in one of the bigger trailer parks. This trailer park wasn't one with rv's or anything, they were “mobile homes”. Not so mobile at all really since most of them were basically falling apart, and no one could afford the ten grand it takes to move it some place else. He turns onto a shorter road with more trees and the road gets rougher and trailers get more worn down. It's a little more sketchy but he doesn't care because right now he feels like if anything bad were to happen he could just happily float away. Nothing happens, most likely do to the fact it's so early but he's fine. He loves this place though because it's his home. It's been almost eight months since he moved in, in November all by himself. Bad things happen to good people. Harry likes to think he's a good person…. because he is, he tries, he tries really hard.

  


  


He'd been sprinting for about 15 minutes and sees John, sitting on his little porch that leads to the inside of his house. Harry swears that he wakes up so early almost every morning just too see Harry jogging past him in all his stunning glory. 'How could someone so beautiful live in such a dingy trailer park', John always finds himself thinking. A true diamond in the ruff.

  


But this time John's jogging up to meet Harry at the end of his driveway. “Hey,” John says in a smooth but questioning way. Harry raises an eyebrow of confusion but proceeds towards him. He stops by the rusty mailbox that John's leaning against. “Hey, whats up?” Harry pants out, wiping a little bit of sweat off his forehead. This was weird because John was more of watcher, a creepy one, but he never actually spoke to Harry. “Just wanted to introduce myself cause I've seen you around a lot, my names John.” He says while slyly looking over Harry's body. Harry smiles, “I know.” “How?” John says while squinting his eyes. Oh shit. Harry racks through his mind for an excuse. “A friend of mine told me.” He lies, because he totally didn't walk over to his house at three in the morning to look through his mail a few weeks ago. He just wanted to know his name because he's creepy.. _see_ innocent. He learned he does have quite a few hospital bills, so he got a little more than he asked for. “Oh I see. And your name is?” He says in a smile, “I'm Harry, nice to meet you.” He sticks out his hand for a handshake and forgets about the baby pink nail polish that was on his fingers. When John notices he seems to grip his hand a little tighter. “You like getting up at the ass crack of dawn Harry?” Harry snorts, “ I love it.” “So do I.” He says slowly while pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket. “How old are you?” John asks after he takes a drag of his cigarette. Harry quiets down and says lowly, “I'm 21.” “Mm,” he hums out. “I'm 52,” he says. Quickly adding, “Well, it was nice seeing you this morning hun.” “Nice to see you too,” Harry says with a wave goodbye and jogs off quickly. Well that was weird as hell. Another gross old man to add to the list of people Harry should stay away from.

  


  


Harry jogs back home, not feeling up to going any longer. He makes it to his trailer. His was just a plain white but he had planted flowers in the front of the house to _spruce it up a bit._ He planted vibrant indigo Asters because they were just too pretty and they attract butterflies. And right in the middle he put beautiful peonies, that were a light pink color and he knew that they would grow to be absolutely stunning. He wishes he could plant more but that's all he could afford, especially because he would only buy organic ones because he didn't want the innocent butterflies to ingest any weird chemicals.

He walks up the 3 wooden steps and tiny deck on the side of his house. He opens the screen door then takes his keys out of the disguised ceramic mermaid next to the door and unlocks the three locks to get in. He takes his sneakers off and leaves them next to the door and hangs his keys on the key hook connected to the back of the door. He turns left for the kitchen because he's thirsty as hell. “Ugh,” he moans tiredly. He takes a plastic disney princess cup and fills it with water from the tap and downs it. He puts it in the sink and goes down the tiny hallway to his bathroom so he could take a shower. His bathroom was a bit cluttered to say the least. Filled to the brim with hair products, lipsticks and glosses, make up, nail polishes, razors, shaving creams, soaps, face washes and masks, a blow dryer. He loved all of his things though. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He speed walks to the living room to lock the door because of course, _he forgot._ He jumps on the couch and looks over the back of it to look through the dark blue curtains to see if anyone was there. Nobody was there. _'Of course nobody was there',_ his brain scolds him. Whatever. He needs to get in the shower. He walks over to the old record player in the corner of his living room and puts on a record, The Chordettes. He puts on Mr. Sandman, his favorite. _“Sandman I'm so alone. Don't have nobody to call my own.”_ He sings along as he makes his way back to the bathroom. He strips and gets in the shower and leaves the bathroom door open so he could hear the music. He washes his hair with a sweet smelling shampoo and conditioner then takes a loofa with some vanilla body wash to scrub at his body with. Exfoliation is good. He picks up a razor because he's got a busy day ahead of him. When he's done he picks a face wash. He chooses angels on bare skin from Lush. When he's done he opens the clear shower curtain and steps out, feet landing onto the soft light blue rug there. He goes to the back of the bathroom door where his towel robes are, puts one on and then gets a normal towel to wrap his long curls up in. He looks divine. Water droplets sparkling on the parts of his pale skin that's exposed. His softly crafted, angelic facial features would make you question if angels roamed earth. Love songs softly play in the background as he makes his way to his bedroom. He lays down on his full size bed, lets his body relax against his white comforter. He hums along to the music. A lonesome queen he is.

  


He gets up and goes to get something to eat. He opens the fridge to see a whole lot of nothing. He decides to make some toast. He pops two slices of white bread into the old toaster and sits down at his kitchen table, waiting for it pop. When it does, he gets a paper plate and smears one with grape jelly and the other with peanut butter.

  


He's laying on his couch now, finished eating. It was an old three seater floral couch he found off craigslist. You can't even see the floral print now because he had draped tons of soft blankets over the entire thing to make it more cushion-y. He goes to the bathroom to get nail polish remover and a red nail polish, picks up some paper towel on his way back to the couch. He takes the pink off, then slowly paints on the red one. When he's done he sits back and watches some documentary about some religious cult, waiting for his nails to dry. Record playing lowly in the back round.

  


He falls asleep with his hands splayed out on his thighs and his head lolled to the side. At two pm he wakes up in the same position. “Ahhhgh,” he yawns and stretches out. “I feel like shit,” he says to himself. He's still in his bathrobe, fell asleep before he could change. He walks to his dark bedroom, the two windows blacked out by blankets he nailed to the walls. He turns on a lamp and goes to his bedside table where he keeps his big “jewelry” box on top of. It was black on the outside and made out of leather. It just looked like a square box with a lid but when you opened it, the top and front open. Revealing a mirror on the inside of the top and under it little open compartments meant for rings or little trinkets. Underneath that are two half size drawers, then three full size drawers. A soft cream material covered everything in the inside. He was so lucky he found this at the good will a while back. But instead of jewelry inside, it was drugs. Roxy's, xanies, percocets, and some coke. He opens the first drawer that has in it a zip lock bag with about 5 roxy's left and takes one out. 15 mg, 15 dollars. He shuts the box and locks it then goes to the kitchen to get a drink to take it. He should feel better soon. It's been about eight months since this all started.

  


   


  


  


You see Harry had two jobs, a waiter by day and stripper by night. Harry worked Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night at the _gentlemens club._ During Monday through Wednesday, he has a part time job at the Crystal Diner. Being a drug addict and staying hot costs a lot of money. He gets paid between 500-1,000 per night at the club and around 50 a night or day at the diner. He started stripping in January because he couldn't afford his rent, bills, food, and addiction just working at the diner. He even resorted to selling his body for pills but after a couple times he learned the hard way that he needed to find another way to get money.

  


He needed to find out an outfit for today. It was already five and he needed to take a nap before he worked the whole night. He looks through his work dresser in his room for something. It was a very nice club. The men who came there were rich, had lots of money and went there for a show, relief, and class. He decides to go for pale pink lace panties with a matching bralette, baby blue silk shorts, and a packers crop top with a scoop neck so everyone can see the little kit he's hiding underneath. The shirt was also a good conversation starter. They have shoes and heels at the club so he won't bring anything special. He thinks what he's gonna bring to wear is nice but could be better.. hmm. “Oooh,” Harry says aloud. He picks up light blue fuzzy cat ears that would match his shorts. “Purrrrfect,” he purs out and giggles to himself. He always has to try to look his best, is very meticulous about his work. Five thirty. He lays his outfit on the bottom of his bed then gets his Laura Mercier almond coconut body crème and puts it all over his body to moisturize and get a good scent on him that everyone loves. He put on sweat pants then runs to the living room to get the same polish he used on his nails. He plops down on the floor in his bedroom to paint his toenails. When he's done and they dry he puts on a a foot cream then fluffy socks. Being soft, smooth, and sweet is a must for everyone that works there. Be as aesthetically pleasing as possible is the under the table motto.

  


He goes to the kitchen to make something to eat. He decides on oatmeal with a sliced banana. He pours the packet of oatmeal into a bowl then puts some water in the kettle on his stove to boil. When it boils he pours the right amount into the bowl then gets a banana off the top of the fridge. He chops it up into his oatmeal. He eats it quick then puts it in the sink. He sets an alarm on his phone for ten because he has to leave at eleven. He goes to his bedroom and curls his body up in his blankets after he crushes up a perc snorts it fast, so he can feel happy and floaty as he drifts off to sleep. His now dried curls splayed out on his pillow, his body just in sweat pants, as he clings to an old stuffed brown teddy bear he kept since he was a baby.

  


He wakes up to his alarm at ten pm. He searches for his phone in the blanket and turns his alarm off. 'Time to get that money,' he thinks pleasantly.

  


  


  


He puts his panties and bralette on then a pair of white skinny jeans. He looks through one of his 3 dressers for a shirt. He chooses an old band t shirt because it was June and he didn't want to wear something too heavy. He goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth then to put a little bit of bb cream to hide any imperfections and to look a little more glowy. He then puts some sweet and light pink lip gloss on, just like cotton candy! He brushes his curls then sprays some hair spray in it to keep away frizz. He puts socks on then his silver boots. He gets his duffel bag out of his bedroom and puts what he needs in it. He puts some makeup in, flavored and shiny body powder, his outfit, the bag of his roxies and a gram of coke to share. He leaves the lights on in the house and gets his keys, phone, wallet, locks the door, and heads out the door to his black Hyundai Sonata. He's thankful to still have this car. He puts his bag on the passenger seat and gets in. He puts his seatbelt on and puts the key in the ignition. He looks in the rear view mirror at himself then poles out of his driveway. A little bumpy because it was a rock driveway. “Bye-Bye house,” he says softly. Ready for the hour drive to Atlantic City. Before he gets on the parkway he stops at a Wawa to get food and gas. He parks the car and goes in the store, 'god, love the way this place smells.' He checks his phone 11:02. He quickly grabs a water and granola bar. He gets in his car and gets back on the road again.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Mommy, a b-bad man hurt me,” four year old Harry stumbled out. Looking down at his feet, starring at his small star patterned socks. Anne was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette and talking on the phone to someone. She looks over at him and gives him a glare. “Harry, I'm busy,” she says annoyed. “But, mommy please, it hurts!” He sees his mom say something quickly then slam the phone down. “What do you want?” “It hurts,” he says sadly and averts his eyes from his mothers to the ground again. “What hurts?” Anne replies frustrated. Harry points to his crotch area. “Down there.” Anne's eyes widen the slightest bit. She puts her cigarette out and stands up. She leans down to pick up Harry and carries him to the bathroom. She closes the door and puts him down. “Show me,” she says aloofly with no emotion. Harry's eyes water, “B-but why mommy? I'm-I'm scared.” “Show me or it didn't happen,” she says through gritted teeth. Harry's crying as he takes off his pajama pants and little undies. Anne turns him around and inspects his body. Anne sees it, someone raped her son. The little bit of red and some dried fluid in Harry's underwear make it more obvious. 'Fuckin shitty babysitters', Anne thinks to herself. “Who did it?” “He said if I tell anyone he'll kill me,” he says shaking through sobs. “Well then why did you tell me?”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He's off the parkway now and surrounded by all the tall hotels and casinos. They were lit up with all different colors and you could smell the saltwater off the ocean. He pulls up to the tall pink building, “A.C Dolls”. He drives to the back parking lot and parks in an employee spot.

 

It was okay looking on the outside, tall and wide, no windows

 

He grabs his bag and walks to the back door. He types in the code above the door handle to get in.

 

“Harry!” He hears his friend Jaco yell at him from a far. Before he could put down his bag he was being jumped on in a tight hug. Harry drops his bag and hugs back, “missed you!” Jaco lets him go. Harry smiles big at him. “Deena said you're on tables tonight”, he rushes out.

“Oh cool.”

“Yeah, I've gotta go, busy night,” he hurries off out of the big room.

 

Back stage was where all the strippers would change, eat or drink, or hang out until it was their time to go out. It was a big, decent size room. One large long mirror ran across one wall to the other and a counter as well. Harry sat down in one of the seats and looks at himself in the mirror. He stares for a bit, getting lost in his own eyes, spacing out until he feels a tug on his hair. He startles and turns around. He sees Deena staring down at him, smiling. Her long blond hair framing her face, she was in her forties but still walking around in giant ass heels. He admires her. She owned the place and was basically like a second mother to them. Always supported them if they wanted to leave or be a shoulder to cry on. “You're on in ten minutes, dear.” “Oh, okay,” he says in a smile. She walks off, probably to go bar tend. Harry stands up and takes his shirt off exposing the thin lace material covering his tits. Harry was a little thick honestly so the cups definitely weren't holding _nothing._ He takes his shoes and socks off then his jeans revealing the matching pink panties. He reaches down to his bag and takes the little shorts out. He slides the blue silk up his pretty toned legs. He takes the crop top and the cat ears out and put them on. He picks up the bag and walks across the room to the bathroom. He turns on the blinding white light and puts his bag on the counter. He takes out the bag of coke and cuts one fat line with an old credit card. He likes to have more energy during the first half of the night by using coke then he'll take the roxys later. Plus, he likes to share so he'd be out before the nights over. He rolls up a dollar bill and bends down to snort the line. When he lifts his head up he breaths in hard again. He seals the bag up again and puts everything away. He feels good. Really good. He looks in the mirror and readjusts his cat hears atop his head. He wipes down the counter and his nose. He leaves the bathroom and goes to put his stuff away in his locker.

 

The club was pretty big and fancy. Only lit up by purple, blue and red fluorescent lights installed along the bottoms of expensive leather seats. And colorful led light panels in the ceiling. He walks out of the back from the door inside of the bar area, its safer to have the door in there. When he walks out it's pretty busy. Bodies moving on the dance floor, a couple men sitting at the bar drinking. The music thrums loudly on the dance floor something fast paced. He walks and walks.. and walks, passes through a couple white curtains until he reaches the area with more booth tables and strip poles. A couple people groping him on the way there. The music slows down to something more sultry. A couple tables full with expensive looking men smoking cigars and cigarettes playing cards, malt liquor in their glasses. There's one big black table with eight chairs around it, a pole in the middle. Each seat accept one taken and no one dancing. He's bare foot still, likes to table dance that way. He walks up to the table and taps on a guys shoulder. “Is this table taken?” The man turns to Harry and then the rest start acknowledging him. The man looks at the others then back at Harry. “Not at all, kitten.” Harry preens at the name and blushes. He squeezes between two of the chairs and hops on the table.

Making two of the men to get a face full of Harry's ass. They chuckle at him and watch as he makes his way to the pole.

 

The best way to comfortably dance for Harry was to imagine no one was there. So he doesn't get too cocky or fidgety. But at the same time he loved looking at their faces and dancing for them. He grabs the pole and circles a little bit, trying to find the beat to the music. He turns his body so his back is against the pole and moves his bum and legs from side to side slowly down the pole until he's in a squat position. He turns around and as he gets up he sticks his ass out far, with his body folded and tauntingly moves it back and forth until he's upright. He gets a couple twenty bills thrown near him. He picks up the pace and starts climbing the pole, spinning down it, body rolling on it. He goes to slowly take his crop top off locking eyes with a big guy that looks around his forties. He licks his pillowy lips then pulls the shirt up and off him. The man looks at him with more lust and stares. Harry bends over towards him and hands him the shirt while giving him a smirk. He turns around and continues dancing, more money being shoved in his shorts and bralette. They continue to play cards around him and drink their expensive drinks.

 

About an hour later a man who looks straight up like a rich daddy, probably in his fifties, beckons for him. Harry crawls over on his hands and knees to him, adding the effect to the kitten ears. “Yeah.”

“How much for me too take you home?” The man breaths into his ear while while running his hand up and down Harry's arm. “We don't do that here sir.”

 

The man takes Harry's forearm in a tight grip, “you might want to rethink your answer, hun,” he whispers out.

 

“Ow,” Harry says with a pained expression. He squirms out of the mans grip, collects his money and jumps off the table. The men have shocked expressions on their face cause that was quite abrupt and he didn't even take his pants off yet. He walks over to the guy who has his shirt and takes it back. 'Fucking entitled men,' he thinks to himself as he walks to the back stage.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i have like no clue where i want this story to go. but, "jaco" in the story is supposed to to be jaco van den hoven a really pretty model btw. this was a shortish chapter cause i dont know when to introduce characters yet. but yeah if anyone reading this has an idea or two on what you think are good ideas for h and ls relationship tell mee :) also this story is based in america and some of the places mentioned are real but obviously changed a bit for the sake of the story.


End file.
